


Metropolis

by Daiten



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Cyberpunk, Gen, Military, Other, Supernatural Elements, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29404668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daiten/pseuds/Daiten
Summary: Mankind has advance far into the future and no longer concern themselves with petty things like race, sexuality, prejudice and war. They've long since past those to continue the existence of the human race and built a world that became a metropolis.
Kudos: 1





	Metropolis

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing first person forgive me

**Firstly, I apologize to anyone who knows about swords and guns and shit. I don't as you will see but I'm hoping you can bear with me. Secondly, this is a story that draws elements from other anime so I'm hoping there exist no complaints on that front. **Lastly,** I do not own anything in this story, credit to the authors of the characters and monsters.**

"Hmm."

I opened my eyes in response to the slight pat on my shoulder.

Did we already reach?

Was the first thing I wondered and my head reflexively turned to the right.

To clarify, my eyes weren't closed because I was sleeping or feigning during the entire bus ride or anything-in fact I was actually sharply focused-but it was only because I liked to be surrounded in thoughts while my mind wanders in contemplation that I wasn't able to answer that question.

So, with my head fully turned I got my answer.

Standing beside me and staring down at me was an albino boy with a monotonous expression and flatten spiky hair that seemed messy but was purposefully groomed that way. His name was Cole Caldwell, a student at the Theobold Academy and my best friend.

Compared to me, who just threw on whatever clothes he had laying around, Coles casual wear was stylish. Despite the obvious expensive material, Cole's black jacket with white stripes and red design inside contrasted amazingly well with his albino features and white shirt, making him look like one of those anime boys in a romcom.

Well compared to someone like me, who just donned on his red tracksuit with those white arm stripes over his plain black shirt, that's how it looked.

Sad to say, the only thing that was presentable about myself was how tamed my short black hair was. Other than that not even my unzipped jacket displayed fashion like Cole's. Even the way his red bag hanged loosely from the one-shoulder seemed premeditated.

After I looked around and saw the other students were exiting the bus I took my earphones out and followed behind Cole.

We disembarked the bus at the brick entrance of the college gates. All the other students who arrived in a different automotive passing through the gates and forming a single file line stretched to the steps leading into the college.

Also there with us, but uniformly sprinkled about, was the TDB enforcers of Division 1. The Tactical Defense bureau. They were the guys that dealt with the normal and everyday police work.

One of the ways you could easily and always tell it was division 1, was by the police theme highlights in their black full-body strengthening suit. It might be day out but you could clearly make out the colours.

The other way is simply by the power suits armor design. I won't go through all of them but the thing to note here is how closely divisions 1 power suit looks like a motorcycle riding suit.

The full-face helmets and sleek visors were another one but there doesn't exist, that big of a discrepancy in their designs.

It had taken a while of the line progressing as the schools guardsman checked each student by himself, doing so with the use of a gun like scanner device and a collapsible holographic interface screen tablet, but now after several minutes of waiting, it was Coles turn.

Following the existing procedure, Cole wheeled his back to the guardsman and lifted the hair at the nape of his neck to let the officer scan the exposed location.

With several quick and continuous beeps of the gun-like device, the data read specifically from the device embedded in his neck got transferred to the collapsible holographic tablet and visualized itself as medical vitals and personal information.

From my position at the bottom of the steps, I couldn't see what Coles readings were but I knew they were good when I saw the guard excused him. After that quick exchange, I lost sight of him but knowing Cole as I do, he's probably standing on the sidelines waiting for me.

I then ascended the steps and followed the same procedure. My readings coming back a couple of seconds after. Of course, the only thing the guardsman really looked for was just my name, Neel Bates, and my brain wave coefficient, 123.7.

And after seeing those and narrowing his eyes as our gazes met, he let me pass with a shrug of his head.

I joined up with Cole, and Just like that, we walked into the main campus.

Around us, the entire campus as a whole was set up like a printer circuit board. With multiple different shapes, sizes and designed buildings surrounding the large atrium build main campus in the center. Some of the intricately build buildings clung together in sets, few of them were connected by skyway systems that parallel and intersected each other while most of them were just separate and sprinkled around the main campus.

As soon as we entered inside the main building, Cole and I traveled up a set of stairs on our left to the third floor and made our way into the classroom, with about a fourth of the students; Some in their cliques, eating while discussing and others palling around or on their smartphones in silence, giggling.

Cole and I separated. He went to his desk at the front, speaking with his best friend from since high school, Shana Camelia as he did so. Talking about what? I don't know, it's not any of my business.

Shana was his friend. Not mines. And even though he encourages us to speak and she's more than happy to talk to me. We don't.

She is popular, but not in the stereotypical sense. I guess the best way I could describe it is she's like the embodiment of extroverted. Open personality, sociable, enthusiastic, and friendly. But where people would think of the adorable and cutesy type attitude in relation to those, becomes anything but.

She wore a light pink T-shirt with orange collars and a mlp text surrounded by a black spatter for the top. And a blue denim skirt with black tights as the bottom. Purely in a stylish sense, she wore her pink hat backward and let a couple of strands of her fluffy shoulder-length brown hair slip through the strap gap.

I wasn't going to disturb them so I wormed my way around the scattered obstacles and moved to my seat near the window at the back.

I have a couple of minutes to kill before Ms. Jenkins's arrival. While I wait, might as well keep myself occupied. I reached into both my pockets and took out my smartphone and earplugs. Then, after connecting the phone and plug together, I played the first song from my calming playlist- Heikousen by Sayuri.

The entire classroom went silent and I snapped out of my contemplation to look ahead. Our teacher arrived. A woman who dressed in an olive green top and blue jeans. After 3 minutes of me slouching in my chair and gazing at the white-painted ceiling absentmindedly, Ms. Jenkins finally arrived.

The silence didn't last long as one of the animated students spoke up.

"Ms. Jenkins the only reason why I'm here so early in the morning was that you demanded us too, but here you are now. Late."

In response to that, everyone, including her, laughed.

"My bad, my bad. Traffic was a pain, but we can discuss about me at a later date, it's time to start the lesson." Ms. Jenkins said, putting down her bag and walking up to the whiteboard with a marker and eraser in hand.

"We are still on the topic of trigonometric functions. Most of you, if not all of you, seem to grasp everything that regards to graphing them."

"But, because I love you all and want to see you all succeed, I'll dedicate those free time to revising all the topics, pouring the majority of my time in those the class is weak at since we're already far ahead of the schedule."

The whole class groaned and murmured but still took out their books, although a bit reluctantly.

Since the start of the semester, we've been basically speed running through math. Ms. Jenkins is one of those teachers whose classes are in the top 50 Worldwide. And I don't ever see myself falling into that category. Not that I'm that bad at math but because I'm a realist. Besides, my headaches becomes more prominent when I can't find something. Just imagining how annoying it feels when I can't solve a question.

I once told Cole, if mathematics was a person she and I would be constantly throwing hands. I hate it and it hates me. But despite my complaints, I've always performed somewhat competently. My lowest grade being in the '40s while my highest barely passed 70. Oddly enough, however, ever since I joined college, my lowest would be in the '70s and my highest 92. Which again was really weird.

Just like always, I wasn't picking up enough of her lesson to follow along. The special thing to note about Ms. Jenkins, All her classes are always attentive. She just moves too fast and barely gives us enough time to write everything before she erases. Hell Most of the writing in my book is nothing but scribbles of her main points and tricks mixed in with my own summaries and hacks.

"Alright, let's wrap it up here. You know what's next. put away the books and take out your folder sheets." A series of groans and whimpers exploded out as the classroom went into a whiny frenzy.

I hate this part the most. We all hate this part. Every class, she likes to end earlier than usual for forty-three minutes of in-class assignments. One where we have to exchange papers with others and let them call out our grades. She says the embarrassment would drive us to do better, I say she this is how she spites us.

There were only the sounds of scribbles of writing, murmurs of voices, and turning of leaves coming from the classroom. Apart from those the whole class was quiet. They had to focus. The pop quiz was filled with past exam questions that were revamped to appear even more convoluted mixed in with her own long working process questions.

I couldn't help but smirk.

I'd expect no less from her.

When she said time was up, chairs screeched in a dull roar as everyone snapped up and exchanged papers. It is not their neighbors who are your friends but your friends' neighbors. To break that down, every one of us is scrambled and forbidden from the people we talk to the most. So this becomes a war where people converse in light negotiation.

"Abe Sandoval." She called the first name from the class roster.

"81"

"Archer Stephens"

"89"

Bailey Jensen

"91"

Benedict Lynch

"82"

Cary Arnold

"83"

Cole Caldwell

"96."

Dennis Leonard

"87"

Donald Tucker

"..."

She scans the silent room for the person.

"Alright then."

Guy Williamson

"88"

Herbert Robinson

"88"

Jacqueline Read

"86"

Jade Howel

"84"

Mark Mckinney

"90"

Neel Bates

"68"

Nicole Cooper

"93"

Noelle Guzman

"83"

Class ended after five minutes of naming calling and I exited out the door, following everyone. Apart from this class, I have another class immediately after. But despite that, I moved with the same lazy demeanor as before as I headed up the stairwell to the third floor and made my way to the Biology lab.

A loud boom exploded through the air and a horrible crunching, grinding sound shook the earth right after.

I stumbled around uncoordinatedly, supporting my hand against the wall on my left to prevent me from falling.

"BLIGHT!" A student yelled from the atrium courtyard and I sprang near the closest window to give me a view.

What I saw was an enormously tall creature. A seventh-foot rabid rabies squirrel with three sets of eyes and a body hopped up on an insane amount of protein powder. It stood hunched on its hinge legs, matted with reddish-gray fur, and charcoal black claws that also protruded as spikes from its elbows and vertebral column.

The growl emanating from its beastly maw that dripped thickly with drool sounded disgusting'; almost like an amalgamation of a human with asthma snoring and a dog growling all amplified by a speaker with a high base.

A student, who I presumed fell when the mob fled to the opposite door, scrambled to his feet shaken and took a few trembling steps backward, finding it hard to believe that what was staring at him was a blight.

Yes, a blight. That's what we call them. Nasty creatures that anyone can turn into when their brain wave coefficient exceeds the threshold. To prevent the manifestation of these creatures, however, the devices implemented in our necks are set to explode the exact moment the threshold is breached.

But as clearly seen, this creepy monster is standing in the courtyard before everyone with its head intact. And that could only mean the device was compromised.

Something that happens more often than it should. In the world we live in, any one of us can turn and die all in a split of a second. And that doesn't boat well for some people in society. Therefore leading them to disable the embedded devices. Whether it's through hacking, EMP, or surgical. All of which are obviously highly advised against.

It bellowed out a monstrous roar that felt like rattling pressure before charging and slashing at the student, throwing up rocks and dust as it moved and shaking and cracking the ground with each step.

But.

"MOVE!"

An authoritative voice unfroze him, and the boy gathered strength in his legs and forcefully jumped out of range.

In a split second the boy fell onto the grass and the officers with their modified version of an AR-15 assault rifle, sprayed the beast. However, the bullets fired at it weren't live ammo but instead stun energy blasts set at a medium output.

The boy twisted his head to watch the officers curiously as it seems they had something else in mind. He watched as they pulled out a cube device that split into its four edges and surrounds the blight in a large energy cage.

"Which of you is willing to face this creature?" One of the officers asks.

I see, that's their angle. To capitalize on a given opportunity. Events of blights coming back to localized areas aren't unheard of. They were once human after all. Most if not all of them tend to want to vent their anger on past life events. And since many of us have zero experience with blights this is good in-field experience.

The door into the atrium swung open, and a girl with lion-like black hair and purple eyes popped out while the other student left. Naomi Gibbs. That was the name of the girl dressed in a blue and white three-piece sportswear.

She would be the most likely student to take the opportunity. With a deafening squeal, the facilely decorated door shut closed and her that of a psycho eyes, gleamed at her opponent.

On the topics of blights, we live in a world where people of age are allowed to carry weapons. Again anyone could turn into one. All it would take is symptoms of mild schizophrenia and splinter like migraines. Those are the early warning signs of turning. So to combat the threat of blight people who go into high school are given weapons.

Naomi's being, as seen when a locker shaped object crashed into the courtyard, a modified FN M249S Rifle, and a Walther p99 handgun. Along with those, she also had a pair of military protective gloves, tactical vest, energy projected shield, and dirt yellow gun ear muffs.

Given a small voice-operated wristwatch, a human-size whole opened up for Naomi. She entered inside and, immediately, the blight attacked. It raised its menacing furred arm and plunged it at her.

Naomi evaded it, swiftly dodging to the right, and aimed her FN M249S Rifle at its midsection; But before she could apply pressure to the trigger, the blight jumped to the cube's ceiling then prowled on the three surfaces to aim for her throat.

Naomi took a jump backward and adjusted her sidestep to dodge the swipe. Once the brush skimmed past her, she then aimed her rifle to its gut and fired off a small spray of shots, missing but not in a predictable way. Instead, the blight, before the maelstrom of fire could reach it, used its free hand to forcefully flipped forwards.

The blight swarmed Naomi several times, but still, she managed to evade the swipes, all the while returning fire with her FN M249S Rifle and sometimes using her energy wrist shield to bounce it around.

During the 20 second mark of the short exchange, her gun wasn't responding to the trigger and the blight attacked her blind spot. But, as she twirled her body around, Naomi switched to her Walther p99 handgun and shot the blight thrice in its head.

The clanging sound of the dropped blight rattled the energy barrier and she exited out the atrium with a maniacal smirk on.

Even if the blight was to get an attack in or she truly ran out of ammo, Naomi still would have been aright because of her Defender skin, but I guess she wanted to lull it into a false sense of security for an easy opening.

It huh? I just realize I don't even know who that person was. If they came back here to seek some kind of revenge then it's probably a student. I mean it does make sense. But I'll know for sure when it pops up on the news.

Among the most likely age group to turn, it is the college students. Well, students, in general, have the highest case but most frequently turns are young adults. Thankfully however with the introduction of a buffer, brain wave coefficients have been moderated. They mostly take the forms of drugs and psychologists but since drugs are more effective the TDB officials allow their use. There are other forms, like Naomi's manic personality, but not everyone can utilize that without being sent to a correctional facility for rehabilitation. Another one of them was genetically modified babies but of course, that didn't go over well with the public, just like the TDB proposal to combat the implantation disabling's by installing tracking devices.

After the live combat spectacle, all the students watching returned to their classrooms. I pulled off my backpack and took a seat at the back table. Biology was one of my most loved subjects. I remember back in high school the teacher would constantly tell me to shut it because of how much of a smartass I was. But in college everything became different. Which is expected since you had to know the intricacies behind everything. It was all about specificity. Not hard until you discover all the weird names and the several things that work independently to each other.

When my three-hour class was over, I decided to head over to one of the arenas on campus. That's where Students, no matter the school or year, all gather whenever they have free time. The schools' arena was to the north and is used to hold mock battles for multiple purposes, one of them being to lower brain wave coefficient readings. Each arena has an interatrial dome that was the size of a football field and included enough space for an audience seating arranged in a bowl shape around the space.

The trip to the arena was an obviously long one, but the tall giant buildings and facilities made for a good spectacle. I made it into the building and went to the self-servicing reception desk to punch in my battle conditions. By that, I meant a mixer match up with the condition to win being scoring a one hit point.

After that, I made my way to the male's locker room via the elevator and suited up in my battle gear. Unlike Naomi, I don't carry such heavy artillery nor do I have so many defensive lines except my defender skin. Apart from my tactical fingerless gloves, all I did carry with me was a red hilt katana that had its handguard shaped like a brake clutch lever and an SMG pistol that looked like an HK45 handgun.

An interesting feature added to the sword was that its blade was detachable from the hilt when the clutch is gripped in tandem with the index ring on the inside of the lever. I had it custom-designed like that because Whilst in the scabbard the blade is superheated for better offense but for now, I turned off that setting and just had a blade stronger than tungsten.

I left the locker room and entered an elevator. When the elevator dinged I then sauntered out to the arena, a slender dark skin albino girl with back length hair and buxom breasts meeting me there.

Didn't see that coming. Standing in the arena where the mock battle will be held, was a student from the most prestigious all-girls college. Those girls are on a different level in terms of smarts and combat.

In the clothing she was in, a somewhat baggy white turtleneck jacket with several placed straps and black spandex pants, I could tell her body type, but knowing where she was from, there was no speculating that she was athletically built.

Normally I wouldn't be able to discern the type of school but the reason how I knew she was from there was all in the look and design of her weapon.

In the most simplest description, the complexity of it was a giant black seven-foot cleaver knife axe with the blade section mounted to a metal staff. But in technical terms, it was a stripped upper section of an AR-15 assault rifle mounted at the top end of a metal staff as its stock and had a giant rectangular cleaver knife axe blade attached to the rifle that slides up and unfolds to turn the entire weapon into a spear. It even had a little trigger mechanism on the assault rifle section as well as a magazine slot at the inwardly folded cleaver blade.

Every student lined up together in the stands watched the holographic timer, which had been counting down, enthusiastically.

Five seconds left before the battle.

This will be my first time against one of those.

Go.

We both shot out and swung our blades.

Clang

I'm sure the people in the stands spectating all collectively think I'm stupid-I mean just look at the size difference between us-yet I brazenly collided my blade with hers; Something I would normally refrain from doing but saw as necessary.

At the moment I felt my sword being pushed back, I slanted my blade a couple degrees and guided her battle axe into the ground.

It crashed and dust whipped up, my side got pummeled with pebble size debris.

I ignored the burning sensation eating at me and slashed my sword at her unguarded torso.

After that, it should have been an easy hit but that buxom girl spoils my quick and easy win. It seems she knew I would have played a fast one on her from the beginning because her weighted swing had enough drive behind it to fluidly catapult her way behind me and swing back around her cleaver axe.

Shit, not good.

BAM

A wave of discomfort burst into my existence as her swing sent me off balance, thankfully however I had gotten back around and guarded myself, my blade positioned vertically and braced supportively against my forearm.

Damn it, heavy. I grunted moments after the impact, but still, I had managed to stay upright as my feet slid along the dirt surface of the ground.

I really don't want to feel that shit again, not until the pain subsides at least, but there was no waiting with this girl. By the time I centered my body, she had already repositioned her weapon around and zipped at me. The intimidating enormous weight of a monster cleaver axe quickly plummeting overhead.

It was all just a moment but I parried the attack.

I reached out with my sword guarded horizontally overhead and guided it to the floor with the full length of my blade shifted downwards.

with a clang, the dropped blade hit the ground and puffed away the earth beneath. Which, thankfully, I avoided when I swiftly jumped to my left.

Not much time was given after that before the distance between us shortened greatly. She immediately took pursuit and with her axe in both hands, entangled me in a combinational onslaught of attacks.

The guts inside of me weren't prepared for another clash, so I quickly evaded the elegant attacks, cautiously moving my body around and utilizing my superior stats in speed to search for any openings, but my effort might as well be for not.

Because when I spotted one, I took aim at her exposed back and went in for the strike, but then suddenly felt the air being knocked out from my stomach. A backward kick from her high heel sending me flying.

I barreled across the dirt for a moment, shifting myself in mid-air so my sword can act as a breaker and slice into the ground as I kneel.

Great, just great.

I can't breathe and I feel bruised.

Those girls from Peaks academy are really truly monsters. Her movements might look graceful but they're aggressive as hell.

I needed time to reassess my battle plan. Clearly, this girl isn't going to make my win easy. But I wasn't given time to wither in the pain as the sharp edge of her axe cleaved into me.


End file.
